'Boogieman'
Well-known member
You probably live somewhere that's relaxed.
You know you live in the country if......
- Thread starter Bud Green
- Start date
You probably live somewhere that's relaxed.
Or he is..relaxed.
'Boogieman'
Well-known member
Everyone is a product of their environment.
G
Guest
I think MM's post could be a new discrete thread.
For me there are many satisfactions that are not available to the Person in the city:
For me there are many satisfactions that are not available to the Person in the city:
- a neatly ploughed row
- the felled tree that lands where predicted.
- the bowls of fruit from the garden on the kitchen table
- the morning chorus of bird song
G
Guest
I live where Commerce rules. Australia is about to lose most of its Native Bears (Koalas) because of habitat loss (including last years disastrous wild fires) and disease. The state that I live in just keeps on bulldozing land for housing and cattle with almost complete disregard of the environment unless it brings in Tourist dollars.
In many ways Australia is a third world country.
(Oh yeah ... and Cassowaries are confined to a dwindling space that used to be rainforest.)
In many ways Australia is a third world country.
(Oh yeah ... and Cassowaries are confined to a dwindling space that used to be rainforest.)
G
Guest
I learned somewhere that Johnny Cash kept an Emu (Ee-mew) and it almost disemboweled him. Put him in hospital critically injured.
some folks around here keep them. they have been known to kill horses etc by kicking them/disemboweling them with the spurs on their feet...Google says "human fatalities are rare..." reassuring, huh?
Almost walked into this guy last spring
St. Phatty
Active member
he talks about the pain from the broken ribs and the slash on his tum-tum ~
"That day, though, he was not happy to see me. I was walking through the woods in the compound when suddenly he jumped out onto the trail in front of me and crouched there with his wings spread out, hissing nastily.
Nothing came of that encounter. I just stood there until he laid his wings back, quit hissing, and moved off. Then I walked on. As I walked I plotted. He’d be waiting for me when I came back by there, ready to give me the same treatment, and I couldn’t have that. I was the boss. It was my land.
The ostrich didn’t care. When I came back I was carrying a good stout six-foot stick, and I was prepared to use it. And sure enough, there he was on the trail in front of me, doing his thing. When he started moving toward me I went on the offensive, taking a good hard swipe at him.
I missed. He wasn’t there. He was in the air, and a split second later he was on his way down again, with that big toe of his, larger than my size-thirteen shoe, extended toward my stomach. He made contact—I’m sure there was never any question he wouldn’t—and frankly, I got off lightly. All he did was break my two lower ribs and rip my stomach open down to my belt, If the belt hadn’t been good and strong, with a solid belt buckle, he’d have spilled my guts exactly the way he meant to. As it was, he knocked me over onto my back and I broke three more ribs on a rock—but I had sense enough to keep swinging the stick, so he didn’t get to finish me. I scored a good hit on one of his legs, and he ran off.
They cleaned my wounds, stitched me up, and sent me home, but I was nowhere near good as new. Those five broken ribs hurt. That’s what painkillers are for, though, so I felt perfectly justified in taking lots of them. Justification ceased to be relevant after that; once the pain subsided completely I knew I was taking them because I liked the way they made me feel. And while that troubled my conscience, it didn’t trouble it enough to keep me from going down that old addictive road again. Soon I was going around to different doctors to keep those pills coming in the kind of quantities I needed, and when they started upsetting my digestive system, I started drinking wine to settle my stomach, which worked reasonably well. The wine also took the sharper, more uncomfortable edges off the amphetamines I’d begun adding to the mix because—well, because I was still looking for that euphoria."
https://www.neatorama.com/neatogeek/2017/04/04/The-Time-Johnny-Cash-Was-Nearly-Killed-By-An-Ostrich/
I think that kind of behavior is programmed in.
I wonder if birds are a little like Stegosaurus', with extra brains situated around their bodies.
So the brain just send a signal that says "respond" or "kick" and the bird's body translates that into 2 hard kicks.
Little pocket pistol could have skaird off the bird, and his guts wouldn't have had aeration.
I don't like having dangerous predators lurking on my place. Isn't relaxing. Feeding the pond fish and watching them splash, is relaxing. Watching the Purple Martins come back to their racks at sundown is relaxing.
I don't like having dangerous predators lurking on my place. Isn't relaxing. Feeding the pond fish and watching them splash, is relaxing. Watching the Purple Martins come back to their racks at sundown is relaxing.
before they started putting the razor-sharp spurs on fighting roosters, it WAS much more humane. damn things will fight whether folks are standing around betting on them or not, lol. just like bulls, they'll tear down fences to get at each other. i don't understand why chicken fighters want their birds dead ? anyone? boxers don't keep going until one of them is dead...
i've never had to pull the trigger, but i have let folks know i was armed twice & headed off real clusterfucks. just let ONE of a group see you have a weapon & pretty damn soon, they all walk off. some people are criminals ONLY when there can be no resistance...
I was trying to have a peaceful drink in a rowdy bar back when I was young and buff.
An altercation began off to the side and spread. Soon one of the participants was thrown against me as I was dancing back from the action.
I got a very brief look from him, I was holding my drink from spilling and smiling. "That's not fair" he said, but walked back to the unarmed guys to continue, leaving me to finish my drink. For the record, I have taken a punch while carrying, I do have rules.
I don't believe I ever missed a single day without my everyday carry. Since it only helps if it is available I carried small but always carried, even in shorts and a t shirt.
Retired into more peaceful enterprise and it has been a good many years since practicing. It was not Zen that made me quit, it was arthritis interfering to where I could not trust my aim. It actually hurts to shoot.
Only once did I aim at a person, several times I had my hand on my gun but only once I expected to shoot. Makes the heart race it does. A cheap high I sometimes worried could become habit forming.
I accepted religion about the same time I quit carrying, a security blanket can be anything that eases a person's fears.
Religion works even better than guns at my age.
Existing as a pacifist was not a viable option when young, the path I chose led through the center of violence, I lost two friends a year seven years in a row.
Rough crowd.
Survivor's Guilt is a very real emotion. I sought out situations where my life was in danger, I could not live without the adrenalin.
I quit while I was ahead, as in, still alive. No real moral to this idle ramble.
Maybe, live how you must but when you finally die it is the small little details that come back to hurt. The big things get worked out but those petty acts we avoid looking at come back front and center as life winds down.
No pretense allowed at the end.
PS: A huge bundle of contradictions is a person's past. What sticks is not known until after.
An altercation began off to the side and spread. Soon one of the participants was thrown against me as I was dancing back from the action.
I got a very brief look from him, I was holding my drink from spilling and smiling. "That's not fair" he said, but walked back to the unarmed guys to continue, leaving me to finish my drink. For the record, I have taken a punch while carrying, I do have rules.
I don't believe I ever missed a single day without my everyday carry. Since it only helps if it is available I carried small but always carried, even in shorts and a t shirt.
Retired into more peaceful enterprise and it has been a good many years since practicing. It was not Zen that made me quit, it was arthritis interfering to where I could not trust my aim. It actually hurts to shoot.
Only once did I aim at a person, several times I had my hand on my gun but only once I expected to shoot. Makes the heart race it does. A cheap high I sometimes worried could become habit forming.
I accepted religion about the same time I quit carrying, a security blanket can be anything that eases a person's fears.
Religion works even better than guns at my age.
Existing as a pacifist was not a viable option when young, the path I chose led through the center of violence, I lost two friends a year seven years in a row.
Rough crowd.
Survivor's Guilt is a very real emotion. I sought out situations where my life was in danger, I could not live without the adrenalin.
I quit while I was ahead, as in, still alive. No real moral to this idle ramble.
Maybe, live how you must but when you finally die it is the small little details that come back to hurt. The big things get worked out but those petty acts we avoid looking at come back front and center as life winds down.
No pretense allowed at the end.
PS: A huge bundle of contradictions is a person's past. What sticks is not known until after.
TychoMonolyth
Boreal Curing
Couldn't be truer. if everyone understood this, we'd be in a different world.
Sunshineinabag
Active member
Sunshineinabag
Active member
TychoMonolyth
Boreal Curing
Lol.
Ok... So some people like where they are. I have to admit, it was fun.
Ok... So some people like where they are. I have to admit, it was fun.
TychoMonolyth
Boreal Curing
One guy around here had a few. Everyone wanted to kill him. Loud fuckers.
St. Phatty
Active member
that works in Mexico too.
My father made the possible mistake of taking the family camping in Baja in the early 60's.
He also took a handgun, which obviously is illegal in Mexico.
A group of men approached the camp.
My father unholstered the handgun, and stood and waited.
The men did a 180.
God knows how it would have worked out otherwise.
Most adult Human beings are quite capable of doing ad hoc cost vs benefit analysis.
(Although Fauci wouldn’t agree)
Predators will generally seek the easiest prey possible.
Don’t be the low hanging fruit has always been my m.o.
Just had a "deep stoner thought" about a lot of things that I've just been taking for granted, for the last 8 years...
It's a little different living in the country, but I LOVE it!!
"You know you live in the country if"....
You own a 4x4 just so you can get down your own driveway and the street you live on...
Good morning Bud Green ...
